Dirty Deeds in Greenhouse Three
by albe-chan
Summary: A polite visit between members of Hogwarts' staff turns into a dirty nighttime romp for Pomona and Alastor. Jsut what sort of mischief do they get up to in greenhouse three? Basically twisted SMUT. SEX. quasi-FUNNY. PSAM. ONESHOT. For Decimare.


Dirty Deeds

**Dirty Deeds in Greenhouse Three**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in this story, unless stated otherwise. Rated for some sexual content, violence and language. Any similarities to real life are purely coincidence and I will not be held responsible! Thanks!

_**WARNING:**_ WILL CONTAIN SLASH (male on male)!! Ye be warned

**Author's Note: **more sick depravity from the nether regions of StrawberryPunk's mind brought to life by yours truly and my own rather perverse mind (I mean _I_ have to go into all the gory details). LOL, this one is going to be a whirl, hope you all have fun. I will. XD Cheers.

XXX

Pomona Sprout was a practical woman. It was what made her a good teacher, an even better Head of House, and by far, it's what made her a successful gardener. Practicality…yep, that was her alright. In fact, she was so practical, she rarely found time to go out and meet people.

As such, she tended to have a hard time around that elusive other half of the species. Men. She was terrible with them. If they weren't scared off by her patched hat, her insane ramblings on obscure plants, or the dirty fingernails she often sported, then she had no doubt they would find fault with her physically. She was no spring chicken; that was for sure.

So when Alastor Moody came by the greenhouse to visit her one evening, she thought nothing of it other than a fellow teacher popping by for tea. She decided to serve it to him in the rather warm (warmer than she had thought it was) greenhouse three.

"…And well it's just insane for a person to think a Venomous Tentacula makes a good house plant!" she chirped happily, sipping her tea.

Moody stared at her with his one good eye, while the blue one focused on her ample bosom covertly. "Constant Vigilance!" he shouted suddenly, as though overcome by a fit of Tourret's. "That's the kind of thing you need with dangerous plants and people alike."

Pomona jumped, and as a result, threw the contents of her teacup right over her robes. She sighed to herself.

"Apologies" Moody muttered. "Here, let me…" he waved his wand at the stain, but it didn't go away. If anything it spread out further to spite him for attempting to clean it so poorly.

Pomona tried herself, but the stain refused to leave. She sighed. And these were her favourite robes too…

"You had best get that in the laundry as soon as possible" Alastor said suddenly. "Here, let me help you out of it…"

Pomona blushed a bit. She wasn't used to just going round in her regular clothes. But clearly Moody felt bad, and was attempting to help. She smiled, and pulled the robes over her head, having doffed her patched hat momentarily. When she sat in the Muggle fashioned dress (circa 1956) he beamed.

"Little warm in here eh?" he growled lightly, removing his own thick jacket.

"Yes, it can get warm."

"Show me some of the plants you have in here?"

Pomona would have giggled had she been a good ten years younger. What a dashing man. Absolutely dashing. She took him on the short tour, pointing out her favourite, or the more rare plants and such to Moody, while he stumped along behind her. He seemed fascinated by it all.

Just as she was about to go into a long-winded explanation of how the Fanged Geranium reproduces, he put his hand on her arm. "This greenhouse of your is exceptionally warm Pomona," he said softly. "Exceptionally warm." His robes were falling to the floor, and her hands shook so badly, she dropped the pot she was holding, the terracotta crashing to the floor and smashing while dirt and plant bits flew in every direction.

"Y-yes. _R-reparo!_" The pot fixed itself, good as new, on the floor.

Alastor leaned in, his war and weather-beaten face mere centimeters from her own. Merlin, he was going to kiss her!

His lips brushed over hers like wind through the wispy trails of the Whomping Willow.

Merlin he had just kissed her!

She pulled back. No…she was a teacher… "I'm…Alastor, we're on the same staff…we…"

"Come now, that's never stopped the staff before. Look at Dumbledore and Minerva…"

Pomona nodded. It was true that those two seemed friendlier than they had any business being…

"Look," he said softly. "Your robes are all covered with dirt. Maybe you should remove them…" She blushed abashedly.

"Alastor," she giggled, but was undoing her robes anyway. She was a Professor. And a middle-aged, plump woman. She would take the action she could get. His fingers helped her along with her robes, and soon they slipped to the dirt-strewn floor along with the remainder of his.

"Pomona…" She could feel him pressing himself to her, and yielded to him. He laid her back on the rough worktable surface thing as his mouth latched over one generous nipple. She gasped and moaned.

The long, still magnificent length of his phallus probed between her fleshy thighs. He _certainly_ didn't suffer from middle-aged erectile dysfunction… "Oh Alastor!" His cock slid into her heat, and she gasped, shuddering.

He took her hard and fast, right there. He slid in and out of her, fucking her senseless as their moans and cries rose up to the steamy greenhouse ceiling.

"Yes!" he moaned lustily. "Oh yes! Constant…Vigilance!!" And as his body shook and his seed exploded within her, she let go, and felt her own orgasm break over her.

They lay there, allowing themselves to drift slowly back to reality. Moody levered himself off of her, and stood, hastily pulling on his robes. Pomona followed suit.

"Thank you for that, Professor Moody," she said primly, adopting her practical nature once more. She'd been quite impractical for too long tonight.

"Thank you." He rose and sipped the last of his now cold tea. "See you tomorrow?" She blushed hard and nodded and he took his leave.

Yes, Pomona sprout was practical. Hell, practicality was practically her middle name. Yet for all her practicality-ness she found it hard to be with members of the opposing sex. Until she met Mad-Eye Moody. With him, there was no practical. It was only about the dirty deeds in greenhouse three.

XXX

**Author's Note: **so the ending bombed. Apologies. I tried. Anyhow, if any actually reads this, please REVIEW!! And…and I shall love thee forever. Cheers!!


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